Maybe if we drank shark blood,

We’d be braver.

Sweat the fear out

And write your poetry in Excel spreadsheets.

I’ve been reading about mountains

And men

And eyes full of tears,

Dew drops, remembering

The shapes of things no longer whole.

What’s the weight of little things?

Commas and colons

And full stops of the heart.

Sudden, like true beauty,

Flowers blooming on the edge of the garden,

And lightning bolts that go unseen.

My emotions only live inside my finger tips.

 

How many times have you thought

Of love

In an empty room?

When memory recurves

Like scimitars through the air

Or boomerangs that come back

And hit you in the head

After you forgot about them,

I seem to lose you

And find you

And lose you again

Until you bloody my nose.

So I’ve written reminders

Crimson and wet,

Turn my head

On a swivel

And become paranoid

In your absence.

I once fell far and

Down a street,

Which seemed to grin

From ear to ear,

And shone a light

On all my fears

Of pavement, asphalt,

And societal gears.

I’m glad I brushed my teeth today.

I’m glad I never know what’s going on.

There’s a path that needs following.

Swinging feet from the bed

Of a pickup truck.

Should I tell you?

Confront you gently?

Or let you blow in the breeze?

I didn’t know you could tan

Porcelain,

But you did,

Selling flowers to passersby

Who don’t stop to look

At the real beauty of nature.

Should I tell you?

Mournful wood

Cast looks into my soul

And through my coffee cup.

 

The last time I saw her,

She feathered pages of poetry in pure bliss.

I’d never wanted to become words so badly.

I don’t think we even spoke.

---

I’ve never tried to proofread

My love,

But hindsight is retrospective

and terrible.

Horrible

Horrible

Horrible.

---

There is no wasted time.

While walking through the woods within my dream,

My fingers began to feel the bark of trees running past.

Only once did I hear an animal.

Further down the path came a scream,

And I continued on my way towards it.

Don’t panic, my mind.

Don’t whisper to yourself.

For trust is only accepting lies

And danger that could happen.

I found them lying besides the wooded path.

Neither moved and neither breathed,

And so I kept on walking farther.

Dear,

I’m telling you,

I’ve seen homeless folk buying drugs,

And pipes full of shit rumbling

In a basement.

I’ve felt the curve of the earth as I fell, drunk

Into an empty bathtub,

And proceeded to bathe,

Attempting to pretend that the world is flat,

And that I’m cleaner than the rest

Of humanity,

Or at least not as dirty as the people on the internet

That only hate.

Sling it with their hands like little shovels.

Don’t they know they get some of that darkness on themselves?

I’ve watched as snow fell on a clear day

And thought of nothing but tomorrow.

How the sky will feel

Lighter,

Less compact and stuffed up

Like a sinus cleared,

Or a game of Connect-Four that is only waiting

For someone to make the first move.

Empty spaces have the strange ability and proclivity for

Potential energy.

But when something comes from nothing,

What does that mean?

Was there something in it,

All the while?

I’ve started writing letters

And then stopped abruptly.

I’ve gone to fetch a ladder for a friend stuck on a limb

But stopped after seeing the beauty of man in a tree,

Fingers grasping fractals.

I’ve broken rules of writing when someone told me not to,

And swept a red flood across my soul.

I’ve eaten with lovers and haters but couldn’t look at them

For they sat too closely to each other.

So don’t have a schedule for what you should do.

There is no exam for life,

Or course to follow.

Merely stop and step upon your path in

Reverence of beauty and

Take in as much as you can.

If you need a rest

From bombardments of a messy

Life.

If you find holes in your shoes,

After walking across the street

Again and again.

If you feel the weight of your choices

You made in a stupor.

If you need a new mirror

In which to see yourself.

If your life starts crumbling

Like ancient brick towers.

If you break down in memory

Of what all went wrong,

Exploding overhead

Like flak cannons of vengeance

That smell your fear

And blood.

 

I recommend the ocean.

I recommend a brief escape,

Frenzied at first, but

Hopeful at last.